


Tree House

by PatrickVghnStump



Category: Fall Out Boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3515558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatrickVghnStump/pseuds/PatrickVghnStump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick tries to build his son, Declan, a tree house, but something goes horribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tree House

Pete shot up in the bed, Megan rolling over next to him. "What's wrong, babe?" she asked sleepily, putting her hand on his knee. Pete pulled the blankets back up as he settled back into the bed. "Nightmare," he responded, swallowing hard. His chest was beaded with sweat. He wiped it with the blankets. "Patrick again. Why's he been dying in all my dreams lately? Do you know how fucking scary that is, MJ?" he asked, pressing into her. 

She sighed. "You're best friends, Pete, so it's only expected that you're going to be scared out of your fuckin' mind when you have dreams like that. Why don't you call him?" she asked. Pete shook his head, looking at the alarm clock on the side table. "It's four in the morning. Declan probably won't be up for another three hours, meaning he won't either," he said, still shaky. Megan rubbed her hand on Pete's back. "Go back to sleep," she said, yawning. "I'll remind you to call him when we wake up again, ok? I bet Saint's gonna be up around then. We put him to bed early last night," she reminded him.

Pete nodded. "Yeah," he said simply, letting his eyes drift shut again. He wasn't sure if he'd get more sleep. He didn't want more sleep. It would only mean more nightmares.

\----

With the sun leaking through the curtain, it was hard to sleep, even if the house was still quiet, with Saint still sleeping and Bronx likely in the living room watching cartoons. Pete rolled over, looking at the clock. 7:45. He sat up quickly and grabbed his phone from the side table. He dialed Patrick's number, putting the phone to his ear. As the phone rang, he gazed at the clothes on the floor, the blank, dusty TV screen, the sleeping form of his fiance... Finally, Patrick's voice came through.

"Hey Pete!" Patrick said enthusiastically on the other end of the line. Pete breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god. Dude, I've been having so many fuckin' dreams where you just like... Die. In one, you were on the way back from the store and hit a moose! Another time, you drowned after falling through ice.. Another ti-" 

"Pete! I'm ok man, there's no need to lose your head! Nothing's gonna happen to me. Not while Elisa's around. She's more protective of me than she is of Declan like 75% of the time, I swear," Patrick laughed.

Pete laughed nervously, breathing the laugh into the receiver of the cellphone. "Yeah, I know. It's just... It's been happening so often, more and more frequently, and it's fucking scaring me, man." 

Patrick sighed. "I'd probably do the same if this was happening in reverse order. It... It would be fuckin' scary. But I assure you, I'm 100% alive." 

Pete heard Elisa's muffled voice in the background. "Babe, it's your turn!" He heard shuffling from the other end of the line, and the babbling of the 11 month old Declan. "Da!" Declan chirped. 

"Pete, I gotta go. Diaper bomb," Patrick said, grunting. Probably picking up Declan, Pete decided.

"I should probably go check on Saint anyway. I'll talk to you later, then?" Pete asked. 

"Yep! Call you later, ok? Bye, Eyeliner." 

"I thought I told you not to call me that, you asshole!?" Pete grunted, playfully. Patrick laughed one of his really nice full body laughs on the other end, but he didn't answer. "See ya, Lunchbox." 

Patrick started to protest, but Pete ended the call. He smiled, feeling absolutely relieved. Patrick was ok. He turned to exit the room when he heard a soft snort from the bed. "He called you Eyeliner again, didn't he, baby?" Meagan asked.

Pete walked over to her and kissed her cheek. "Of course he did. I'm gonna go check on Saint, and see if Bronx is in the living room or not." 

Meagan nodded, still sleepy, hair around her face like a swirl of brown and gold waves. Some of it was in her mouth. Beautiful as ever, Pete noted. "Alright," she answered, rubbing her eyes.


End file.
